


Blue Memories

by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)



Category: The Thin Red Line (1998)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Making Love, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-03-04
Updated: 2002-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-05 06:47:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5365373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrine/pseuds/Sandrine%20Shaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I remember it all in every vivid detail - the words we spoke, the atmosphere surrounding us, the way he looked in the blue shimmer of moonlight, the strange sensation of his touch. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Memories

Sometimes, I think back to that night on the hill. 

It was one of those rare times we really talked. I remember it all in every vivid detail - the words we spoke, the atmosphere surrounding us, the way he looked in the blue shimmer of moonlight, the strange sensation of his touch. 

His face, illuminated from the pale moon, only inches from my own. His lips smiling, almost mocking my seriousness. In the middle of a fight, next to an exploding bomb, in the chaos of war, he always had a smile playing around his lips. He had seen so many things in his life. Cruel things, the personification of evil, the face of war. Death. But he also saw a world I've never known. Freedom, peace, perfection. Life. 

I only knew war. He had known peace, too. And maybe it was the memory of this wonderful world, this dream world full of happiness that made him hold on to his light and brought a smile to his lips. Like the smile that comes over my own lips every time I think of that night. 

He smiled at me, and I was lost. It was one of those open and incredible disarming smiles of his, that made it impossible to hate him, or even to direct anger at him. He smiled at me, and his smile lit up his whole face, it reached his eyes and made a strange kind of bittersweet longing grasp my heart. 

"There are things that are more important than this, you know," he told me, that enigmatic smile on his lips once again, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. 

I remember snorting softly, unbelieving. "Not here, Witt. Not now." 

And still, he smiled, looking at me with the kind of gentleness in his gaze that you give a small child who just won't understand. A look that would have infuriated me coming from any other person. Under his glance, I felt myself calming down instead. 

"Especially here, Sergeant. Especially now. If there wasn't anything more important than war, than what do we have to fight for? What would be worth winning, then? What would be worth living?" 

For a moment, I fell silent. "What do you have to fight for? That thing that's so important, what is it for you?" 

He hesitated for a few seconds, watching the landscape around us immersed in blue. For a brief moment, I thought that he wouldn't answer, but then he spoke, his gaze turned absently to a group of trees at the horizon. "Harmony. Freedom." 

He paused again, looking up at me. "Love." 

I wanted to question it, maybe even make a snide remark. But there was something in his eyes that stopped me. He suddenly seemed defiant, almost as if he was daring me to object. I didn't. I held his gaze steadily, unblinking. For what seemed to be an eternity, we kept our eyes locked. He sat beside me, knees drawn to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. He looked incredible young then, almost vulnerable, regarding me serenely, and his big brown eyes were for once shining with a unfamiliar seriousness. Sighing softly, he leaned his cheek onto his knees. "They are worth fighting for, you know." 

A statement, not a question. His eyes burning into my own. The earth damp underneath me. Soft wind ruffing my hair. 

Finally, I looked away, breaking eye contact. "What's any of that worth if you die down here?" 

"Would you want to have lived without having loved once? Would you want to die without having been loved?" His voice was soft, almost melodic, not tearing the fragile atmosphere. A soft rush of wind blew through the grass, the plants gently swaying, the blue shadows dancing in the moonlight. 

And suddenly, I looked at the night with different eyes. Where I had only seen danger until now, I suddenly found beauty. The grass moving in silent waves, the shadows of the trees falling in mysterious, weird figures on the ground, the blue clouds slowly dancing across the sky. It was beautiful, indeed. 

And so was he. 

The moon illuminating his face, his eyes gleaming in joy mixed with sadness, his lips smiling at me with this bittersweet smile. In that moment, I couldn't remember ever having seen anything as beautiful in my life. 

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly tight. I didn't understand why I felt this way at once, don't know why there was suddenly a strange kind of tension between us. Maybe it had been always there, maybe I just had never realized before. I regarded him uncertainly, not sure what to say or do, unsure what was happening between us. 

He however, seemed to be more self-conscious than me, suddenly sitting up and slowly, tantalizingly slowly, he leaned in. He gave me plenty of time to move away, but I felt frozen in place, my eyes fixed on his mouth as he closed the distance between us. Unconsciously, I wetted my lips, my tongue darting out nervously, mere seconds before he captured my mouth with his own. He tasted of salt and spices as his warm lips brushed against mine, his tongue hesitantly seeking entrance into my mouth. 

The kiss was soft and yet demanding. It wasn't the longest kiss I ever experienced, nor the most earth-shattering. It wasn't the sweetest, not the hardest kiss. But it was certainly the most intense kiss I ever shared with anyone. He wasn't the first guy I kissed, nor was he the last. 

But he is the one whose lips I can still taste on mine every time I think of that night - even after all those years. 

I remember how I felt that moment - the incredible longing that grasped me, the yearning for something I couldn't quite name. I desperately _wanted_ ... what, I didn't exactly know. It wasn't just physical desire. I wanted to have him, be with him, melt into him and the night around us. 

When we finally broke apart I opened my eyes, unaware that I had closed them to begin with. It didn't matter. All my thoughts were focused on what was right in front of me - his smiling face, his dark eyes and red lips, his soft gaze on me. We were both breathing heavily, our breath loud in the silence of the night. 

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper against my ear. "What are you fighting for?" 

A tired smile. "I don't know. Maybe ..." My voice trailed off as I hesitated, searching for the right words. "Maybe just a moment of happiness, no matter how brief." I reached out a hand to touch his face, my fingers trembling as I gently caressed his cheek. My thump stroked over his lower lip, the soft flesh quivering under my touch. 

My mouth claimed his again, harder this time, more demanding, my hand clamping around the back of his neck, drawing him closer. I felt his arms coming around my body, felt him holding on to me so tight as if his life depended on it. Desperately, my other hand clutched his upper arm, and I knew that it would have to end too soon. Knew it, and dreaded the moment I would have to let go. 

He broke away once more, his eyes burning into mine. Dark fire, radiating excitement, passion, joy. In one swift motion, he pulled his white cotton shirt over his head, only seconds before doing the same to me. I couldn't take my eyes of his body. I've never seen anything - anyone - as beautiful, as close to perfection as him. And when he pushed me down into the wet grass and his perfect sculptured, sun-tanned, almost hairless body covered mine, I wondered if there was a heaven after all.

His lips trailed down my upper body, kissing every scar, flickering over my nipples and teasing me mercilessly. When he cupped my rigid member through the rough material of my pants, I thought I was dying from pleasure right in this moment. I just wasn't sure whether I was going to heaven or hell. Torturously slowly, he pushed my pants down, the damp night air making my erection twitch. 

And with just the slightest hint of a smile on his lips, he looked up to me. "Do you want this, Welsh? I could still stop and you could pretend tomorrow that nothing happened. Do you really want this? Do you want me?" 

Sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if I had said no. If I had told him to go to sleep and forget that this night ever happened. Sometimes, I ask myself if it hadn't been better this way. But then, I remember his fierce kisses, the hot tight mouth engulfing my shaft, the mixture of agony and pleasure on his face when I entered him, thrusting into him like there was no tomorrow, the feel of his teeth in my shoulder when he came, trying to keep quiet. And I remember the sensation of his head resting on my chest when we were both breathing heavily in the afterglow, the rosy shimmer on his cheek when he looked up to me and kissed my lips gently, the smile in his eyes when he told me to sleep and closed his own eyes. The whispered words when he thought I was already asleep. 

"I love you." 

I never said it back, nor did I give him any indication that I had heard them. And this is probably what I regret most, after all. 

He died without ever having know that I had loved him as much as he had loved me. He died without knowing how much he meant to me. 

Sometimes, I think back to that night on the hill. I think of him and his kisses, of our lovemaking and of how fast the morning came. No night in my life passed faster than this one, and none did I wish to last forever as badly. 

Sometimes, I dream of that night. And when I awake, I find my pillow cold and wet.

The end.


End file.
